


Open Arms (Don't Explain)

by likelike_love



Category: In Plain Sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likelike_love/pseuds/likelike_love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary is hurt. Marshall provides comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Arms (Don't Explain)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 3rd Annual Month of Mayhem on mary_marshall.livejournal.com. inspired by (and title ganked from) Patty Larkin's [Open Arms (Don't Explain)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_C7192yzhQ). Big thanks to papillongirl for sweating through this one with me.
> 
> [Originally posted](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/656275.html) on mary_marshall.livejournal.com on February 29, 2012.

Long strides ate the pavement as Marshall made his way across the scene. Flashing blue lights cast strange shadows and made everything appear sinister, but his gaze never diverted from the rear seat of the cruiser. Stan called out to his inspector from where he was conferring with the scene commander, but Marshall ignored him, or perhaps never even heard. Instead he reached the vehicle in record speed and wrenched the door open with a force that caused the blonde behind it to crawl across the seat to the opposite side.

"Mare?"

She turned to face him, eyes wild and frightened. Her top was ripped, exposing the left cup of her white cotton bra. The clear outline of a large boot print lay across her chest. Her face and arms were covered in dirt and her lower lip was swollen from where she had bitten down.

"You're here?" She was pale. So pale.

"I'm here." Marshall knelt on the ground outside the rear door, gripping the seat to keep from pulling her into his arms.

"Is he ... Did I kill him?"

"No. No. When Stan called he told me Royce shattered his pelvis from the fall, but was in stable condition when they airlifted him to Mesa General. "

Stan had also told him Mary was fine, but based on what Marshall was seeing in front of him, he wondered what fine meant. What stable meant. If that bastard was exsanguinating en route to the nearest trauma center. 

"Have the paramedics checked you out yet?"

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked. Mary, listen to me. Have the paramedics checked you out yet?"

She shook her head.

"Can you walk?"

She nodded. 

Marshall stood to give her some room and she slid slowly across the seat. She emerged from the car, cradling her right wrist. Marshall gently draped his suitcoat over her shoulders and drew it closed across her chest before they made their way to the waiting ambulance.

* * *

When Stan arrived at the emergency room, he was surprised to hear from the charge nurse that Mary had already been admitted. The walk from the ED to the inpatient units was all too familiar at this point. He hesitated in the open doorway, talking in the scene before him. Mary was curled on her side facing the siderail closest to her partner, whose long legs were sprawled out from the uncomfortable visitor's chair. Her right arm was propped up on three pillows and wrapped in an ace bandage. 

When Marshall looked up, he motioned to Stan to remain where he was. He rose up on stiff limbs to join the chief in the hallway.

"She okay?"

"Some bruising, a couple stitches behind her ear, and that wrist is toast. They splinted it for now, but she'll need surgery once they can get the swelling down."

"Damn."

Marshall rubbed at the back of his neck. "What do you know?"

"At this point, not much. The best we can put together, Mary paid Royce an unscheduled visit and she wasn't the company he was expecting. The back bedroom's windows were blacked out. Propane tanks, rock salt, and a bathtub full of solvents."

"Meth."

"So it would seem. Did she mention anything to you?"

Marshall shook his head. "She didn't like him."

"Mary doesn't like anyone," Stan declared.

Marshall spared him a rueful smile. "Well, I guess that explains why she never drew her weapon. Afraid to set the whole place off."

"The family on the second floor had three kids under the age of seven all sleeping snug in their beds. She risked herself to save their lives."

Marshall nodded, lost in his own thoughts.

"Listen, why don't you go home and get some sleep? I'll sit with her."

"Nah. I'm fine. Just ... keep me updated okay?"

"Will do. Call if you need anything. Either of you."

Marshall returned to the room. He brushed Mary's hair off her face before taking his seat by her side.

* * *

When Stan returned to Mary's hospital room the following afternoon, the bed was empty and Marshall was leaning against the doorway of the tiny bathroom. 

"That's it, Mare. Get it all out."

The sounds of retching echoed off the tiled walls. Stan stopped cold in his tracks and his hand flew to his mouth. Within moments, the chief was on his knees, emptying the contents of his stomach into the waste basket in the corner.

"So help me, Marshall, if you don't get the fuck-"

"Okay, okay." Marshall backed away from the bathroom. He turned to see Stan still hunched over the trash. "Hey Chief."

Stan waved a hand and continued spitting into the barrel.

Mary shuffled out of the bathroom and inched her way towards the bed. She regarded her boss in the corner. "What up, Chuck?"

"Mary, I-"

“Seriously?”

Marshall tried to intervene. “You know he has a sympathetic stomach, Mare.”

“Oh, well then by all means, feel better, Stan.”

Stan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How are you?”

“Been better. Been worse. No bullet holes.” She turned to Marshall who was fluffing pillows to prop up her arm. “Hey Florence, enough.”

Marshall took a seat beside her.

“What do you hear, Chief?”

“He’s out of surgery. Stable. And out of the program.”

His inspectors remained quiet. Mary yanked at her johnny. Marshall examined the pattern of the flooring.

“Huh.”

* * *

“Would you sit down, Mare?” Marshall called to his partner as she paced around the hospital room.

“Five days. Five days is enough. I’m going home.”

He nodded. “You are. Very soon. But we need to wait for Gina to come back to go over your discharge instructions. You just had surgery yesterday. Let’s just give her a few minutes to run through some do’s and don’ts.” To emphasize his point, he removed her duffel bag from the grip of her operative arm.

“She’s got three minutes and that includes the instructions.”

Marshall snorted.

Twenty minutes later, they were on the road. Mary rested her cheek against the passenger window.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"You just look like you've got something on your mind, that's all."

"Wondering if the contents of my fridge have grown legs by now."

Marshall regarded her curiously. "The only things in there when I stopped by last night were three containers of yellow mustard and a box of Junior Mints."

"I was wondering where those went. Wait, what the hell were you doing in my house?"

"Packing a few things for you."

"What?"

"I can loan you some pajamas, but I thought you might want your own shampoo ... and I know how you feel about those disgusting slippers of yours."

"Wait, why would-"

"Let's cut to the chase here -- you didn't think you were going home, did you?"

She huffed. "Uh, yeah. That's where I live, numbnuts."

"It is?" He feigned surprise. "Listen, don't get all in a twist about this, Mare. The only way I could keep Brandi from moving back in to play nursemaid was to tell her you were coming home ... with me."

"Oh for--"

"I'm making en _chi_ laaaaaaaaaaadas."

"Fine, I'll stay for dinner."

* * *

By the time the opening credits rolled on the movie she had chosen, a pajama-clad Mary was in a narcotic-induced slumber on the couch. Marshall gently eased her feet from his lap and cleared the remains of their dinner from the coffee table. He puttered around the kitchen, putting up the leftovers, loading the dishwasher, wiping down the counters. He tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder and returned to the living room.

Mary was supine on the couch, cast tossed behind her, propped up on the arm of the couch. Marshall stood in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her, safe and sound, snoozing on his couch. After a few moments, he noticed he was swaying on his feet.

"Mare."

She stirred slightly, turning her face into the back of the couch.

"Hey, sleepy head."

"Mmmmmph."

"C'mon, Mare. You'll be much more comfortable in the bed."

He helped push her to a sitting position, kept the palm of his hand on her back to help guide her down the hall to the guest bedroom.

When Marshall pulled back the covers, Mary crawled beneath them. He tucked her in, pausing to run gentle fingers through her hair. "Good night, Mare."

He turned out the light and left the door open. He spent a few minutes in the master bathroom before turning in himself. With his own door open, he fell into a deep and restful sleep for the first time in nearly a week.

* * *

The bedroom door was nearly noiseless as it swung open, but Marshall’s hand still flew instinctively to the nightstand.

“Take it easy,” Mary whispered.

“Hey, what-” Marshall turned only his face towards her, eyes unfocused.

“Everything’s fine. Just go back to sleep.”

“‘Kay.” He snuggled further into the pillow and let his eyes drift close again.

When the bed dipped his eyes flew open again. “What-”

“Shhhhh. Go to sleep, Marshall,” she whispered from her spot at the foot of the bed.

“I _was_ sleeping.” He sounded confused.

“Well, then go back to sleep,” she countered.

Marshall sat up. “Mary?”

“Go back to sleep. Really.”

“I would but there’s something really weird about having my partner curled up at the foot of my bed like a golden retriever.”

Before she was able to choke it back, the sound she issued lay somewhere on the spectrum between a laugh and a sob.

“Mare-”

The concern in his voice was too much for her to bear. “Don’t.”

“Mare.”

“No.”

He raised both hands in surrender. “We don’t have to talk about it. Not tonight. But Mary, please. Just come up here at least.”

Mary ignored his outstretched hand, but still crawled awkwardly up the bed to slip beneath the covers. She settled in on her side, facing away from him and pulled the sheet up to her chin.

He reached out in the dark, hand resting lightly on her ribs. 

Marshall’s fingers felt warm, even through the fabric of her tank top. She shuddered involuntarily, incapable of controlling her muscles as she was gripped by gasping sobs.

His arm slid around Mary's abdomen, pulling her back tightly against his chest.

"I've got you." He repeated the words over and over into her neck. "I've got you. I've got you."


End file.
